


Something Great

by ashavahishta



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crossdressing, Facials, Feminization, Lingerie, M/M, Makeup, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:43:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashavahishta/pseuds/ashavahishta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis and Harry have sex while Harry is in a skirt and panties. That's literally it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Great

**Author's Note:**

> Harry once said that if he were a girl, he would be called 'Sasha.' So in this universe that is what he calls himself when he dresses femme.

Louis gets held up at the X Factor studios on Sunday night, so he’s nearly half an hour later than Harry by the time he gets home.

 

The house is warm and inviting. Louis kicks off his shoes in the foyer and follows the sound of the TV into the lounge. Harry’s got it turned up quite loud, and obviously hasn’t heard Louis come in.

 

He’s curled up on one corner of the couch in a little black singlet and a black and pink striped mini-skirt with matching knee-socks. His long legs are curled delicately beneath himself and he’s got all his nail stuff set out on the table beside him. He’s currently painting the nails on his left hand, and from here Louis can guess that he’s wearing a little makeup. He’s got his tongue between his teeth as he concentrates on getting the nails exactly right.

 

Louis lets himself stare for a moment. He takes in the dark pink of Harry’s lips (his favourite lipstick, then) and the long sweep of his mascara’d lashes, the faint hint of blush on his cheeks.

 

Finally he announces himself. “Hi, Sash.”

 

Harry looks up and greets him with a pretty smile, his eyes sparkling. “Hi babe.”

 

Louis steps into the room, picks the remote up and turns the TV down. He settles on the couch beside Harry, careful not to jostle the nail polish that he’s balancing on the arm of the couch. Harry is still working on his left hand, so Louis picks up his right and inspects the bright red polish on his square nails. “New colour?”

 

“Mm,” Harry murmurs as he finishes off his pinky. “It’s called ‘Siren.’” He purses his lips to blow air over the drying paint and Louis feels his gaze drawn to Harry’s pink mouth again. He rubs his hand up Harry’s thigh, where he’s soft and bare in the gap between socks and skirt.

 

“You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

 

This isn’t an uncommon occurrence for them, but it’s doesn’t happen all that often. Harry doesn’t have always have time for the prep that goes into it. So it still surprises Louis a little each time, how pretty his boy looks and how much he wants to touch him. He rubs his thumb against the softness of Harry’s thigh.

 

“Not until my nails are dry,” Harry reprimands primly, but he’s preening already, his eyelashes fluttering and his lips curling into a pleased smile. He loves when Louis calls him pretty or beautiful.

 

Louis huffs a little but he’s willing to wait. He turns his attention to the television for a bit and leans his head on Harry’s shoulder. He smells incredible - he always has long showers and uses pretty-smelling soaps and shampoos before he dresses up, and he has a couple of flowery perfumes that he likes. Louis turns his head to press kisses along Harry’s neck, slow and gentle. He doesn’t mean to tease. He just wants to get his mouth on him, to breathe him in and appreciate how soft and pretty he smells.

 

He kisses up Harry’s neck, nibbles at his ear and leaves little bites along his jawline. Harry pretends not to notice but Louis can feel his breath quickening already. He’s probably been hard ever since he got dressed. Louis knows what he’s like, knows what this does to Harry as well as Harry knows what it does to Louis.

 

Harry must finally deem his nails dry enough, because he turns his head and meets Louis’ mouth in a soft kiss. His lips are a little waxy from the lipstick; a texture that Louis is familiar with by now. They’re still so soft and full and Louis traces the shape of his lips with his tongue, exploring. He cradles Harry’s face in his hand, stroking his thumb over his cheek, which is powdery and soft with foundation. He lets his fingers slip into Harry’s hair where it’s thick and loose around his face.

 

They kiss for a long time, Louis keeping the pace slow and tender. He likes to be extra sweet with Harry when he’s like this, because Harry just looks so delicate and beautiful that he can’t not. He lets his hand creep up Harry’s thigh as they kiss, his fingers brushing the soft skin at the edges of the skirt.

 

Eventually Harry pulls away. His pupils are blown wide and his lips are so full and dark pink that Louis has to restrain himself from kissing him again immediately. Harry grins at him. “Let’s go to bed.”

 

He stands up so abruptly that Louis is left on the couch for a moment, surprised and very, very turned on. Then Harry turns to walk out of the room and Louis understands.

 

He wants to show off the skirt and the socks, the little minx.

 

Harry’s hips sway deliberately as he walks, making the little skirt swish tantalisingly around his pale thighs. His legs are absolutely gorgeous in the cute socks, showing off the long, shapely length of his calves and thighs.

 

Harry’s always a bit of a tease, but it’s stronger when he’s playing Sasha. It seems to give him an extra boost of confidence, and he’s positively coquettish when he turns to look over his shoulder at Louis. One hand skims down to the back of his skirt and lifts it enough to show a flash of pink lace underneath. “Are you coming?”

 

Louis gulps.

 

“On my way, babe,” he manages in a throaty voice.

 

He’s so hard that he has to adjust himself several times as he follows Harry toward the staircase. His eyes are trained on Harry’s pale thighs and his cute little arse in the tiny skirt. Harry’s just so tempting as he prances up the steps; curls bouncing, skirt swishing to give little glimpses of that damn pink lace. He keeps looking over his shoulder and smiling down at Louis, his eyes bright and dimples on full display.

 

When they finally get up to their room, Harry pauses in the doorway to let Louis catch up with him. Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist from behind, pressing his cock up against Harry’s arse. “You’re such a little tease.”

 

Harry leans back into him with a breathy giggle. “Yeah,” he agrees, completely unashamed. As Sasha, he always has that extra little bit of attitude that makes him love getting Louis flustered and desperate. He likes making Louis work for it, and Louis marvels at the effect Harry can have on him. Most of the time he wants Harry begging for it, but at times like this he’ll follow Harry around like a lost puppy just for the chance to touch him.

 

Harry lets Louis rub up against him for a little while longer, tilts his head obligingly so that Louis can kiss the back of his neck and mouth at his shoulders. Then he pulls away and backs up toward the bed, holding Louis’ eyes as he falls (somewhat gracelessly) onto the mattress and scoots backwards toward the headboard.

 

His soft pink lips are curled in a coy smile and he holds his hand out toward Louis, crooks his finger and beckons him forward. “I want you to eat me out.”

 

Louis has never scrambled onto a bed so fast in his life.

 

He kneels at Harry’s feet and wraps his hands around Harry’s ankles, lets them run up over his calves, his knees, stops at his thighs. He bends his head and starts kissing up the inside of Harry’s thighs, leaving sharp little bites and soft, sucking bruises along the way. He deliberately lets his cheeks rub against the sensitive skin; he knows that Harry loves the feeling of his stubble scratching over his thighs.

 

The bruises he leaves are gifts; for Harry to press down on later and smile, for Louis to look at and admire, because Harry is _his._

 

Louis feels overheated already, sweating in his t-shirt and jeans, overwhelmed by Harry’s smell and how soft his skin feels. He wants to bury his face between Harry’s thighs forever.

 

He flips the skirt up to rest over Harry’s belly, exposing his pink lace panties, little bows along the waistband and cock hard and straining under the material. He nuzzles once at Harry’s cock through the lace, presses a little kiss to the head and then moves on. Harry’s hips are lovely and they deserve attention, especially in the places that the panties have left little red creases in his skin. Louis kisses all over his hips, tracing his tongue over the line of the waistband and mouthing at his pelvic bone. He murmurs praise as he goes, whispers soft words into Harry’s skin. “So pretty for me,” he says with his lips pressed to the spot where Harry’s hip joins his thigh. “So lovely.”

 

Harry’s hips are hitching up to meet his mouth by the time Louis finally draws the lace aside and tongues over his hole. “Grab a pillow, darling,” Louis instructs, and gets it settled under Harry’s hips before moving the lace again. He wants to keep the panties on Harry’s body as long as possible.

 

Settling happily between Harry’s thighs, Louis goes to work. He licks all around his hole, leaves soft nipping kisses around the rim. Harry’s gasping already, his fingers tangling in Louis’ hair. Louis can only imagine how he looks right now; his head thrown back, red mouth bitten and swollen, cheeks flushed deep pink. He wishes he could see him but he’s too focused on reducing Harry to a quivering mess.

 

It gets messy quickly, Louis’ tongue and mouth working at Harry’s hole while Harry whines and moans above him. Louis holds his hips down, thumbs pressing the lace into his skin while he fucks Harry with his tongue until Harry’s thighs are clenching and shaking on either side of Louis’ head. Louis absolutely loves it, loves getting his boy all wet and desperate.

 

When Harry starts to whimper loudly, Louis withdraws. He licks his lips, grins wolfishly down at Harry. He’s a pretty, wrecked mess; thighs spread obscenely, cock desperately hard in the little panties, skirt ruffled up over his hips. He’s flushed pink in his cheeks and down his neck and his eyes are wide and glazed. His breath is panting out of his mouth in soft puffs and his lips are so plush and shiny.

 

“C’mon,” Harry begs quietly, licking his lips. “Lou, c’mon. Get in me already.”

 

The plea hits Louis like a punch to the gut and he rushes to strip out of his clothes and grab lube from the bedside table. He rushes a little in prepping Harry, fingers working into him quick and messy while lube drips onto the sheets. Harry squirms and whines the whole time, demanding Louis’ cock while Louis curls three fingers deep inside him.

 

“You’re all good and wet for me now, aren’t you baby?” he asks, withdrawing his fingers with a wet noise. Harry just nods desperately. “C’mon then, spread those gorgeous legs.”

 

Harry does, one of his hands coming up to play with his own nipple under the singlet as he does. The black fabric covers too much and Louis tugs on it, helps Harry to pull it over his head and toss it off the bed. Harry’s bare chest is gorgeous against the deep navy of the bedsheets. Louis can’t help running his hands over his body again. He palms over his thick thighs, thumbs sure to press on the bruises he left earlier. He skims his pretty hips, his slim waist, ducks his head to suck on Harry’s puffy nipples. He kisses up to Harry’s collarbones, mouths at the wings of his bird tattoos and licks his way up to Harry’s jaw before finally finding his lips. Harry opens needily beneath him, his thighs coming up to bracket Louis’ hips and the soft material of his skirt brushing Louis’ cock as they kiss.

 

They take it nice and slow, take the time to kiss languidly because this is special, not something they get to do often. Louis hums in satisfaction when he feels Harry’s hands stroking through his hair and he cups Harry’s face, thumbs touching tenderly at his jaw and cheeks.

 

His head is spinning, lips swollen and sore by the time they break apart. Harry rests his head back against the pillow and runs one socked foot teasingly up the back of Louis’ thigh. “You know, I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing,” he cocks one eyebrow, left dimple prominent as he smirks coyly up at Louis. “You gonna fuck me or what?”

 

He’s so pretty it’s breathtaking.

 

Flustered, Louis can only nod. “Yes. Yes I am. Yes.”

 

He finally gets himself slicked up, regretfully pulls the panties off Harry’s lovely legs (they’ve tried leaving them on before but they always rip and then Harry pouts for _hours_ ), but leaves the skirt on. He lets it bunch up around Harry’s hips as he gently coaxes Harry into folding his long legs up toward his chest.

 

He pushes inside, nice and slow, watching Harry’s face. He loves to watch Harry bite his lip for the first few moments, loves to see how he starts to smile. Harry really, really, really likes getting fucked.

 

Louis goes slow; he knows Harry is far too worked up to last if he fucks him hard. Instead he pushes in and back out again in long, steady strokes. He makes sure that Harry really _feels_ it, so Harry’s long eyelashes flutter and his breath hitches every time Louis bottoms out.

 

He talks to Harry as he fucks him, voice low and rough, the words rasped out against Harry’s neck. “You feel so good, babe. All tight and wet, such a good girl for me.” Harry groans at the words, digging his fingers into Louis’ shoulders, heel pressing against Louis’ back as he tries to pull him in deeper. “You’re so pretty, Hazza. So beautiful with your long legs and your soft mouth, you’re so gorgeous, I love you so much.”

 

Harry’s close, his legs trembling where they’re wrapped around Louis’ waist. Louis balances on one hand and reaches between them to get his hand on Harry’s cock under the skirt. Harry starts bucking and squirming desperately, arching his back and whispering, “Please,” over and over as Louis strokes him. Louis keeps the same maddening pace but he hits Harry deep, angles himself to hit his prostate on every thrust and starts running his thumb over the head of Harry’s cock. “C’mon sweetie, you’re such a good girl, come for me,” he coos, pressing wet kisses all over Harry’s neck. Harry tenses up and comes, spilling over Louis’ hand, his whole body shaking.

 

“S’good,” Louis praises as Harry sinks back into the mattress. His hair’s a sweaty mess and Harry reaches up to fix it. His red nails look beautiful against his flushed skin.

 

Louis pulls out carefully and shuffles up the bed, hovering over Harry’s chest. He takes his cock in his hand, stroking himself quick and tight while Harry blinks up at him. He reaches up to join his hand with Louis', long fingers wrapping around him and his nails pretty and delicate on Louis’ cock. He tilts his head back, licking his lips and Louis knows it’s an invitation to come on his face.

 

Louis didn’t even realise how close he was until his orgasm hits him with the force of a freight train and he’s coming all over Harry’s face. He gets him good and messy, thick ropes of liquid hitting Harry’s red mouth and flushed cheeks. Open-mouthed, Harry licks up what he can from the sides of his mouth while Louis rides out the last waves of his orgasm with a weak groan.

 

He collapses beside Harry, mutters a shaky, “Fuck,” and turns his head to watch as Harry wipes the last of the come off his face and lazily sucks it off his fingertips. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

 

Harry smiles brightly at him and leaves a happy, sweet kiss on his mouth. “But what a way to go.”

 


End file.
